Bandages
by IvoryRose888
Summary: A Soul Eater Boxing AU in which Soul is an up-and-coming boxing star, and Maka is an already-up-and-come ace sports reporter. Their chemistry is undeniable from the first interview, but things so sour quickly when Soul's past comes back to haunt him... TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: ABUSE, ALCOHOLISM, AND MILD GORE. READ AD YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
1. Chapter 1

_23…24…25…26…27…DONE._

"Alright, Eater! New personal record!"

"Sweet!" Exhaling as he lengthened his muscular arms, Soul "Eater" Evans gave his training partner a broad grin as he released the pull-up bar and thumped onto the gym's aging carpet. High-fiving the blue-haired loud mouth he called his best friend, Soul chuckled, "Third one this week. Nowhere to go from here but up!"

"You got it, bro!" Black "The Star" Barrett crowed, slapping his buddy on the back as the other began to unwind a layer of bandaging surrounding his hands and forearms. "There's no one in this town who can take you, not even a big shot like me can knock you out!"

"Keep training, Star." The albino athlete laughed, re-wrapping his appendages with a new set of stark white bandages. "You could kick me hard if you really tried-"

"Hey, Eater!" Kilik "Big Pot" Rung strode over to the pair, holding out the gym's only cordless phone. "Some chick wants to talk to you."

"Really?" Soul smirked, grabbing the device from the heavy-lifter's hold. "Hello, Soul 'The Eater' Evans, here, how may I help you?" After a chorus of yeses, uh-huhs, and a final "sure, how about tomorrow at 6:30? Here, at the gym," Soul ended the call and handed the receiver back to Kilik.

"Well?" Black Star cocked a brow, and Kilik displayed just as much confusion. "Who was that?"

"I was just asked to do an interview tomorrow with some reporter named Albarn-"

"Wait! THE Maka Albarn?!" Another gym regular, Kim "Witch of the West" Diehl, approached the trio. "The sports reporter?! She's interviewed all of the greats!"

"Really?" The three youths inquired in unison.

"Oh yeah! She interviewed Justin "The Priest" last month, and I heard she's getting a joint interview with "Eagle Eye" Azusa and Marie "The Hammer" next week!" She explained breathlessly, her eyes shining in awe. "To interview the world's greatest fighters… "

"And the world's next greatest tomorrow!" Black hollered, grabbing his best friend's neck in in the crook of his arm as the foursome chattered excitedly about the next day's events.

* * *

"Holy crap it's 6:25 already?! She'll be here any minute!" Soul carefully lifted the bar back onto the weight rack and sat up in the reclining chair, quickly wiping the perspiration from his brow and cheeks. "Can't let a famous reporter like her see me looking like….this…" He quickly began to unwind the sweat-drenched bandages encasing his hands and forearms, silently praying that he could put on new ones before she- His ears perked up as he heard the familiar jingle of the front doors being opened and closed. "Crap….too late. Ah well, she'll just have to meet the _**real**_ Soul Evans, then…" He speedily re-attached the wrappings and rose when two figures rounded the weight rooms front wall.

"Right over here, Miss Albarn." He heard the gym's manager, Sid Barrett, instruct. "Soul Evans, meet Miss Maka Albarn, reporter for Nevada Sports."

"Hi, Soul." She reached forward and shook his hand with a nice, firm grip, hardly seeming to notice the clammy nature of it.

"H-Hey." He tried to flash her a grin, only able to produce what must have looked like a pained grimace.

What had come over him all of a sudden? It wasn't like him to get nervous around women at all. He'd always been self-confident and bold around the opposite gender, but for some reason, something about this Maka Albarn set him off his kilter. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't at all what he'd expected, some suited up, tight-lipped, middle-aged lady reporter who wanted nothing but the facts and moved on. He guessed Kim had forgotten to mention that she was the youngest successful sports reporter in not only the United States, but also the world, for she was roughly his age, maybe a year younger, and he was only 22! Or maybe it was the way her jade eyes drilled him, confident but also kind, friendly, even. Those emerald pools were giving him a real run for his money. Once Sid finally left them, Soul gestured to the only decent chair in the room, perching himself on a nearby weight bench.

"Thanks." She gave him a friendly beam and gracefully sat, tucking her black skirt beneath her. Taking a recording device from her small red purse, she began, "Well. I'm so glad to finally meet you! I've heard some great things about you, Soul. Or, would you rather I called you 'Eater?'"

"S-Soul is fine…" He swallowed and pinked just a bit, hardly able to sit still as her bright green eyes threw him a questioning glance.

"Alright then. Let's get started!"

* * *

Almost ninety minutes later, Soul found himself grinning from ear to ear, a chuckle threatening to filter past his throat as Maka relayed to him the story of how she had to get eight stitches on her forehead because a disgruntled mother bird had pecked her for playing too close to her nest. "My papa cried for three hours!" She giggled, lifting her ash-blonde bangs as she declared, "And the scar is still there today."

"That's crazy." Soul breathed, running his mind over the last hour and a half. The interview had started out as just that, but before long they'd digressed into more personal and humorous pursuits. He'd learned more about her in this time than he'd learned about some of the other gym members in years of side-by-side training. Clenching and releasing his intertwined fingers, he suddenly noticed her eyeing his bandages. It was coming. He could feel it in her lingering, almost longing, gaze. He held his breath as her lips moved to form the dreaded question…

"Soul, what's your favorite type of food?"

What?

"U-um Italian. Love me some of that pasta…why?"

"Well…I was wondering if maybe…you'd like to get a bite to eat sometime." It was her turn to take on a pinkish hue as he gawked, slack jawed, but elated.

"Sure, I'd love to!" He flashed her a shark-toothed grin, chortling when she broke into a relieved and noticeably excited smile.

"Great! So, how's this Friday at 7 at…Reviano's sound?"

"Yeah, Reviano's is my favorite!"

"Awesome! So, I'll…see you then…"

"Yeah…" He trailed off as he watched her rise, her long, slender legs and petite hips beautifully complemented by her knee-length skirt. "See you then."

* * *

"No way! You got a date with her?"

"More or less. She just asked for dinner, but I guess-"

"That's totally a date, bro! You scored big on this one!"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so…"

Black's raucous guffaws filled the weight room as he watched his friend blush under his mirthful gaze; he slouched next to Soul on the bench, suddenly sobering, and murmured, "So…did she, uh, ask about…you know…"

"No, amazingly enough, she didn't. It's like she somehow just….knew that it was a sensitive thing. Like she could read my mind, or my soul or something, and see that it's an off-limits topic."

"Wow. Maybe she really is a keeper then."

* * *

Friday night, 3 minutes 'til seven, and he was still pulling on his nicest slacks and trying to tie his only black tie.

Great. Their first date and he was already going to be late.

Or…was it really a date, or just making up for the lost interview?

Either way, Soul found himself speeding off on his motorcycle at 7:02, praying that by some small miracle, the punctual being that was Maka Albarn would be late.

* * *

Pulling up to Reviano's at 7:23, Soul hopped off his bike and sped through the front door, adjusting the collar of his crimson button down shirt when he finally spotted her through the Friday night crowd. She was wearing a sleeveless, thigh-length little black dress with red heels and bold red lipstick. It was a date. Totally a date, and he suddenly felt his body heat up about 20 degrees.

"H-Hey!" He called, strolling toward her.

"Hi." She smiled, tighter than before, but still with a hint of sweetness.

"Sorry if I kept you waiting…"

"No, no! I just got here, actually…My, um, father needed me for a bit."

"O-oh. Alright. Let's go then." When he held out his elbow to her, she giggled and wove her arm through his, and they set of for their table.

* * *

"No way! You fought three guys, three consecutive matches, all in one day and you beat them ALL?"

"Sure did." He grinned toothily, munching on a garlic roll.

"Wow….you really are the next big thing, huh?"

"You could say that."

She merely hummed in reply, picking at her Fettuccine Alfredo as a shadow swept over her features, but the moment was only fleeting, for he was immediately graced with her jovial presence before he could ask what was amiss.

"Soul…" Her tone was mismatched with her features, a serious pitch to her relaxed countenance. "I have something I've been meaning to ask you, but….I don't know. It felt wrong until now."

The garlic roll suddenly felt thick and sour in his throat, nearly causing him to gag.

"Why do you wear those bandages on your hands…all the time? I mean, I could understand in the gym, but even here, out to dinner? What, are you expecting an opponent to jump up from his table and try to sock you in the mouth?" She smirked.

His deep blush partially hidden by the dim lighting, Soul had a choice to make. Trust her now, and risk hurt later? Or lie to her now, and hope she's around later to fully trust?…

"It, um, helps keep me motivated." He was lying through his teeth, and it was a pathetic lie, at that. "It's like, uh, method acting. I keep them on at all times to keep me pumped."

"O-oh…I see." She'd seen right through him, and he knew it. "That's, um, a great idea. I've interviewed a few athletes with superstitions like that…"

"Cool."

The rest of the meal went on like this, with feeble attempts at small talk, their banter long since put to rest. That shadow crept back onto her face by the time they left later that night, and it would stay there even after she was home and in her own bed.


	2. Chapter 2

It'd been four days since their date, and he still couldn't muster up the courage to call her, to apologize for lying to her so terribly and to beg her to give him another chance. Her eyes had been downcast and distant for the rest of the evening, and she'd answered him in the shortest of phrases. He screwed up, of this he was certain. But how could he fix this mess? He felt horrible, but how to explain why he had lied to her?…

That was the most troubling question of all, for he worried that if he tried to explain it to her, she would leave him for sure. Who could love such a messed up creature of a man? Surely not someone as successful as Maka Albarn….but there was no harm in trying…right? So, on the morning of the fifth day, he called her.

"Maka Albarn here."

"Maka…"

"Yes? Who is this?"

"It's um…uh, Soul."

"Oh." The line went silent. "Um…hi, Soul…do you need something?"

"Yes." He bit his lip, inhaling deeply as he scoured his soul for any ounce of courage he had left. "A second chance."

"What?"

"I…I'm really sorry about the other night…I just want to talk to you…to explain it all…"

Silence. Had she hung up on him?!

"Ma-?"

"Tomorrow. The Deathbucks on Ebony and Alabaster. 12:30."

His heart soared. She was taking him seriously! "A-alright! I'll be there! See you then!"

"Okay. Bye."

He set down the receiver and exhaled, nearly jumping up and dancing a jig in elation. She was giving him a second chance! He could fix it! Fix it all-

But how? How to tell his story without sounding as screwed up and sad and just crazy as it was? She'd probably think he was selling her a sob story to get publicity…He could just…

No. The truth, owning up to his mistake and setting things right, was the only way to go. No flaking. He couldn't screw up. Not again.

* * *

"Crap crap crap crap-"

It was 12:35 and he was still at home, fifteen minutes from the cafe and trying to pull on a decent pair of jeans. So far, his track record for punctuality was less than PR…but he hoped to make it up to her, somehow…

"Maka!" He called, eyeing her ash blonde locks as soon as he passed the threshold. She was standing, poised to leave, her eyes hard and cold even from this distance, her hair up in a ponytail, revealing her defined cheekbones…Shaking his head, he approached her. "Maka, I'm so sorry!" He groveled as he reached her. "Here." He brought a small bouquet of white and red from behind his back. "Your assistant, Tsubaki…She said they're your favorite…" He blushed uncontrollably as her eyes grew wide and she slowly took the bunch.

"Um…thank you, Soul. That's very kind of you." She was guarded, concise, protecting herself…from him…had his actions been so detrimental? They'd been so open before…

"Sit." She more ordered than invited, taking her own seat behind lukewarm coffee.

"I…um…"

"The truth."

He started, his eyes darting toward her stone cold features.

"That's what you came for, isn't it? To be truthful with me? To not deliver me some half baked lie you pulled out of your-"

"Yes." He cringed and she fell deathly quiet, her eyes piercing his skin. "The truth..a-about me…well…the truth is…it's…um…it's complicated."

She scoffed.

"What?" He stared at her interjection.

"It can't be that complicated. Not any more than anyone else's story."

"You…you have no idea." He sighed, slouching.

"Well then, tell me."

"I…gosh where to start…"

"Your bandages." She stared openly at his hands now. "That's what I asked you about. Why do you wear them all the time? Everywhe-"

"Scars."

She froze, staring into his morose crimson eyes.

"What?"

"I…I have…scars…on my hands." He choked out, his throat seeming to constrict. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? Unearthing all these memories…digging up his past just because some..beautiful…intelligent, interesting, insightful…woman popped the question?

"Scars?"

Looking into her swirling pools of jade, the honest concern and curiosity projecting from their depths touched him somewhere, creating a warmth in his heart he hadn't felt in years, and his dam broke loose, spilling forth the past in a garbled stream of words and emotion.

"Y-yes…my…my hands. I broke them…well, _I_ didn't break them…My...dad. He was…no. My brother. My brother was a musician. A good one. R-really good. He…he could've been famous…b-but our dad…H-he was a big CEO, of this international firm, and he…he wanted W-W-Wes…" He nearly sobbed as his brother's named tumbled past his lips after so many years. She was next to him now, having moved her chair to block the curious stares of other customers. "T-to go i-into business, too. B-but W-Wes w-wanted to be a musician. M-my dad…" He sucked in a large breath, tensing when he felt Maka's small hand on his shoulder.

"Soul, you don't-"

"H-he tried to h-hurt h-him." He gritted his teeth, the tears spilling over now. People were staring, talking, he knew, but he didn't care. "My dad…h-he drank a-a lot…One night…he…m-my dad got r-r-really drunk. He…he's an angry d-drunk…He tried to…to beat Wes, to make him give up music to go to business school, but…he wouldn't do it. So my dad tried to…but I wouldn't let him." He bit his lip, nearly causing blood to ooze through the skin. "W-we fought. I h-hit and hit him… A-and he hit back, h-harder…the b-bruises would go a-away…but…he got a h-hold of this..h-h-uge gl-a-ass bottle-" Soul mimicked holding a bottle by the neck, his eyes blazing. "He s-swung at me…a-and I blocked w-with my h-ands. Th-the glass b-broke and went i-into my s-skin…br-oke a h-half dozen bones, s-scarred my h-hands with the glass c-cuts…" He swallowed, his eyes hardening as the remaining tears flowed out of him. "He n-never...got in trouble th-though…They…Th-the c-court wrote it off as an a-a-accident…I-" He inhaled, beginning to regain some semblance of control over himself. "I...I couldn't live in that house a-anymore...N-Not after that. W-Wes was eighteen when it h-happened…s-so he was going off to college anyway…enrolled and accepted with honors and s-scholarships…I was f-fourteen… I ran away, took s-some money from my dad's stash and high-tailed it to S-San Francisco. That's where I ran in to Black." He cracked a small, sideways grin at the memory. "Black and his d-dad, Sid…they f-found me on the s-streets, trying to s-steal and mug just to get one meal a day...They felt bad f-for me, so they took me in...didn't ask a-any questions either. T-took me in and taught me everything about boxing...And I fell in l-love. The rest, as they s-say, is history." He sighed. "Eight years of the m-most intense training of my life later, and h-here I am."

Silence. God that silence…

"Oh God Soul…" He turned to her at last, his eyes wide when he saw her pinked, splotchy features; she bit her lip as she reached into her purse. "Soul I…if I had any idea…I never would have…"

"It's okay..." He smiled wearily, running a hand under his nose as she dabbed at his face with a tissue. "I just…I haven't told anyone that before…not even Black, my best friend, knows the whole story…"

"Wow." They sat for a moment, her hand still on his face as she brushed away the sorrow. Realizing, Maka quickly pulled away and dropped her gaze, fiddling with her thumbs before she came clean.

"Well…I guess it's…my turn…" She inhaled. "I…I'm sorry I got so mad at you…I just…my dad was a drinker, too…is a drinker. And a womanizer. He…cheated on my mother…so many times, but she just…wouldn't leave him. Not until he got violent…" She sucked in a breath, and it was his turn to stare. "He tried to beat her into doing what he wanted. The bruises were…god awful. When he tried to beat me, though, she drew the line." A faint smile fell on her lips. "One night, she grabbed me up and we left. He found us, somehow, but he couldn't touch us, for a while…" She chuckled bitterly. "Now he's older, still horrible, but he's burned himself out already. He relies on me. He's trying to get better he says, but…anyway…the point is that…well…I got so mad because we were so…honest. You were one man in my life who was honest with me, didn't treat me like just some woman to use and forget. I thought we…connected, or something. When I realized you lied it just… Hit me in the face."

"God, Maka…I'm so sorry…"

"It's not your fault. I wasn't completely open with you either…and really I guess raw honesty like that is a bit much to expect on a first date…" She grinned through the droplets, resting a hand on his arm. "But I guess the second is where we come clean, huh?" She sniffed.

"I guess so." He chuckled, sniffling as he looked around the now nearly deserted cafe. "Good god, how long have we been in here?"

"I don't know, but- Crap. I was supposed to be back to work ten minutes ago…The walk will take twenty-five, at least…"

"It's cool, I can take you." He grinned, pointing out the window toward a tilted pumpkin-shaded motorcycle.

"I-I don't know if-"

"It's safe, I promise. I'm a great driver. I can get you there in…ten minutes, probably. The News building, on Gallows Avenue?"

"Y-Yeah, but what about my…flowers…"

Biting his lip in thought, Soul requested a paper bag from a cashier and a hair band from her. He placed the bag over the bouquet and tied the stems together, beaming triumphantly as he handed her the bunch.

"Thanks." She giggled.

"Alright, let's go then!" They started toward the door, the brisk morning winds biting at their cheeks when they passed the threshold. She shivered violently, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him as they strode toward the bike.

"There you go…" He held the flowers as she swung a leg over the bike, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. "New rider, huh?" He chortled, earning him a chop to the head. "Ouch…do that often?"

"Only when you misbehave." She grinned mischievously.

"Hmmm I might have to reconsider this dating thing…" He dodged another blow, bending to retrieve something attached to the side of the motorcycle. "Here."

He held out a shiny black helmet.

"Thanks." She grinned and pulled it on; it slid perfectly over her ponytail. "You ever use this thing? It still smells factory fresh."

"Y-yeah…once..." He mumbled under the roar of the motor, hoping she didn't notice the blush on his cheeks as he sped off toward the center of town.

* * *

_Author's Note: In case you didn't catch it, he totally bought it for her. _

_Hope you enjoyed part 2! Planning on going with this idea for another chapter or so._

_Read and review? :)_


End file.
